Far From The Streets

Far from the noisy traffic of the street
In the wood near where the creek and river meet
In feathers of light brown and palish gray
The bird known as gray shrike thrush is whistling today
Bird in busy town never heard or seen
He lives where the World is quiet and green
Searching for slugs and flies and bees
At home in the place of many trees
Known best for the beautiful flute like song
That to his kind only belong
His type never does venture far and wide
Beyond the quiet treed countryside
Far from the streets of the noisy town
He is whistling as the sun goes down.